


Staring Into a False Sun

by raventree



Category: White Collar
Genre: Advent Calendar, Blindness, Christmas, Hurt/Comfort, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:44:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raventree/pseuds/raventree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not Neals first hot Christmas, but it is Peter and El's. And it is their first Christmas together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staring Into a False Sun

**Author's Note:**

> White Collar belongs to Matt Eastin, etc.

__

 

_00:04..._

_00:03..._

_00:02..._

_00:01..._

_00:00..._

 

Heat washes across Neal’s face and for a moment, he’s somewhere else. Somewhere loud and bright and terrifying. Then the moment is gone, like the heat; conquered by the ever present air-conditioning. Footsteps pass close by and he reaches out. El’s hand is wet and cold with it. She smells of salt water and sunshine.  
 “What time is it?”  
 “About four,” She squeezes his hand. “Do you need anything?”  
 “Not yet. How’s the beach?”  
 “Hot. It must be 100 degrees in the shade.” Neal nodded and turned a leer towards her. Or, at least, towards her voice. It was getting easier with practice.  
 “What are you wearing?”  Her hand shakes with silent laughter and Neal feels the water dripping off her hair before she kisses him.  Her lips are warm against his and she tastes like the beach.  She pulls away, their breaths coming a little faster than before.   
 “Where’s Peter?”  
 “Building sandcastles.”   
 “ _Really_?” Neal can’t help his surprise. El laughs out loud and leans down to kiss him again. Later, Peter joins them in the shower, _covered_ in sand. His skin is rough under Neal’s hands. The water runs cold. They don’t notice.

Neal wakes in the early hours, damp with sweat and lungs burning. His lovers hold him close, hands brushing over him, soothing away the sharper edges of his remembered terror. It’s not the first time, but Neal’s as thankful for it now as he was then.  The memory of white hot air against his skin fades under their touch.   
 “We should go out tomorrow. Do something fun, something Christmassy. “ His voice is rough. El smiles into his shoulder.  
 “You never wanted to go out before. What’s changed?”  
 “We’re half the world away. And we do owe Mozzie for this lovely safe-house.” On Neal’s other side, Peter snorts.  
 “Yeah, because I _always_ wanted to know how a Christmas turkey feels like.” Neal shares El’s smirk.   
 “Oh Hun, no one said you had to come out on the beach with me.”  
 “Or build sand castles.” Neal can practically feel Peter glaring at him in the dark.

  
In the morning, Peter reads from the papers while El makes breakfast. He doesn’t mention the Prinken trial. Neal’s never certain if this is because Peter’s deliberately skipping any articles, or if second-rate bomb makers-for-hire and their suspected millionaire employers just don’t make the international papers.  Neal’s not sure if he minds.  He’s in the bedroom when a  phone rings. He can hear Peter talking but doesn’t pay any attention, focussing on the clothes El had laid out for him.  The shoes are  the hardest.  The kitchen is quiet when he returns. Not empty, Peter and El are still there, just, quiet.  
 “What?” Peter clears his throat.  
 “That was Diana. Prinken cut a deal with the DA. He’s giving up Cross.” Neal reaches for a chair and sits down abruptly. “They’re taking the attempted murder and conspiracy to commit charges off the table. He’ll plead guilty to arson and grievous bodily harm. Maximum sentencing, but with parole.”  
 “What about me? I’m not exactly employee of the month material anymore.” He hears Peter sigh.  
 “Hughes and Bancroft are working on it. According to Diana they see two options. Our agreement is reinstated, you work out of the office and only go out under very specific circumstances.”  
 “And the other option?”  
 “Commutation.  Once we get back to New York, there’s a good chance you’ll go free.”  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I started this last week, finished yesterday and made up the title today. Hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
